


in the man (behold the child)

by Lady_Kaos



Series: golden gods 'verse [6]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kaos/pseuds/Lady_Kaos
Summary: "Yeah," he says aloud. Then he grins. "You three are gonna get along just fine."Like a house on fire, actually, but he's not supposed to know that yet.Or: Chel's a lonely little girl that wants just one friend in the world. Miguel and Tulio are two ex-gods that wash up only mostly dead.That's okay. In the golden city gifted by the gods there is always the chance to start again.Or: yet another AU of an AU.
Relationships: Chel/Miguel/Tulio (Road to El Dorado)
Series: golden gods 'verse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1290521
Comments: 78
Kudos: 102





	1. in small packages

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another AU of an AU inspired by a reader's innocent suggestion, because my muse is a monster that outgrows the one-shot collection that's supposed to exist for these bunnies -.- This one should only be a four-shot. SHOULD. No knowledge of the main series should be necessary. 
> 
> And this one is more innocent then usual, considering all our precious little children start off as... precious little children. Until godly shenanigans ensue.

_Somewhere on a Beach, 150X_

Somewhere thousands of miles away, two idiots accidentally smuggle themselves into an expedition bound for Hispaniola. They are soon discovered as stowaways, and rather than turn the whole ship around to drop them off at Spain, dragged into the New World by force. Maybe they can be enslaved in the plantations they have started up out there. Or among the first lawbreakers tried and executed.

What happens to that ship is immaterial. What matters is a bungled escape attempt and what is about to happen after weeks at sea.

On a beach that borders both paradise and danger incarnate, an armadillo sniffs the air suspiciously. There's no human soul around, because the closest fishing village is miles away, but destiny has drawn him here all the same. The Feathered Serpent's been coy, because the bastard always is, but that storm had roared through the golden city is a portent that promises only change.

And Bibi is all about change. Sometimes it's even beneficial to people.

Today the sky is calm and the sea obliging. The little wooden boat, worn from endless days drifting on the open ocean, is carried gently to the shore.

For a moment Bibi thinks it empty, that whatever sheltered aboard withered without worship or at least casual regard. But he hops up onto the prow anyway to check. He is only mostly right about them being dead.

 _Poor bastards,_ he thinks.

They're next to nothing now, the smallest and barest of their primordial essence. He couldn't save them even if he wanted to. Even if he pities them like this, so small and helpless and curled together against the inevitable void-

Ah, hell. He's taken in weirder. And none even half as cute as these two.

Now, where to put them...

Bibi's ear flicks at one thought that sings out above the endless stream. She's a small one, and already one of his favorites.

"Yeah," he says aloud. Then he grins. "You three are gonna get along just fine."

Like a house on fire, actually, but he's not supposed to know that yet.

* * *

Chel wants a friend.

More specifically, she wants _Mari._ But Mari's de- gone off to live with Lord Cassipa, forever and ever. And Chel's staying right here. So she'll settle for someone almost as good as Mari, but in a different way. She's not _replacing_ her best friend, only finding others to make do with.

Her family doesn't count. Most of them are old. And Xaya is _Xaya._ She loves her idiot of a big brother, still, but his friends are even more idiotic than he is. Xaya can keep his friends. She doesn't need their pity. It's bad enough all the adults look at her at with sad eyes and big smiles they think hide their lies. Xaya isn't _that_ much bigger than she is, and his attempts to tiptoe around what happened to Mari only make it worst.

Chel's next course of action is other girls around her age. Not the distant girls she and Mari used to play with. They're too close to what used to be. The girls from a few streets down are nice but all they want to do is play with dolls. Chel doesn't play with dolls any more. She gave Himi back to Mari the night she went down into Lord Cassipa's cenote and now her own doll sits gathering dust, because what good is her doll without Mari there to pretend she's alive?

Chel tries boys her age next, the one she and Mari used to make faces at. That lasts a day, before Grandpa has to pry her off the one stupid enough to stay Mari was a sniveling cry baby better off with the God of Cry Babies. His black eye heals. Eventually. The bite mark is a lasting reminder of human empathy.

The logical option is girls even older than her, because Chel can't hang around babies.

When Chel's punishment for her last fight is finally over, she heads straight for where the girls a whole three years older than her like to braid each other's hair.

From all the way down the street, the big girls see her. Chel waves and smiles when they grin and wave right back. She runs over to greet them... before her feet slow.

 _Wait,_ a little voice that doesn't quite sound like her conscience whispers. _This isn't a good idea._

But what does the stupid voice know? These girls are Xaya's age, old enough to be smart and cool without the dumbness of her brother thrown in.

"Hi," she says with her best, brightest smile. "I love your hair."

The prettiest of them flicks her eyes over her, then she grins with her friends. "Yours is... okay, but we can make it better. What do you say?"

 _She's lying,_ another voice, different than the first, tells her bluntly.

Chel ignores it too. Mom says it's polite to be nice and even Grandma would say get to know people before dismissing them as idiots. The older girls are even nice enough to show her a secret spot. Not _forbidden,_ just a quiet old garden not really taken care of anymore, where no adults are around to spoil their fun.

Well, the big girls' fun. By the time Chel realizes they smile like coyotes she's pinned beneath the biggest one, and hands are pulling at her hair if _she's_ the doll, pinching at the pudge along her tummy and hissing about dumb little _babies._

 _Aim!_ screams the first voice.

 _What's_ Chel supposed to aim? She's pinned beneath a girl that sits upon her chest like Lord Tzinacon, stealing her breath while another girl holds down her arms. But the view allows her the perfect target.

Chel takes a big, phlegmy breath. One of the bullies thinks she's trying to scream and clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle it. Naturally Chel bites it. When the girl flings her hand off she aims and lets loose. The loogie hits its target dead on. The largest girl shrieks as it clear strikes her eye. It's distraction enough for Chel to wrestle her way free, because somehow she knows right where to pull and punch to fight her way out.

And Chel bolts. She runs like the wind, with a speed she hadn't thought possible. But now she's made the girls _mad._ They have longer legs and tear after her, closing her head start and gaining.

Chel knows how to make crocodile tears come. She's a little sister! All it would do is cling to the leg of one soft looking old lady, and bawl her eyes out to the bring the wrath of gods (or at least parents) down upon the heads of these girls. She seems to have largely left the voices behind, except for quiet murmurs to let her parents fight her battles for her, because she's so young and small.

But Chel is no _baby._ She held back her tears when Lord Cassipa took Mari. She sneaked to the Rain God's cenote beneath the ugly beaked nose of the head priestess to return Mari's doll to her. Letting grown-ups or big brothers solve her problems is beneath her.

So Chel uses the last of her time to double back to the garden. It's dusk now, day blending into night, and the shadows are long and dark. Her eye falls on the quiet pool and the rock pile behind it. She is just small enough to use the ledge of the pool to reach the rocks.

In the gloom the older girls take a moment to spot her through the shadows. That's okay, Chel isn't trying to hide. Atop the rock pile she looms like a lady, grown and proud.

She flings her first stone. It strikes the wall behind the lead bully, just like the wanted. The girls squeal as they realize she's _armed._

"T-That's cheating!" one yelps.

Chel smirks. "Who ever said I had to fight fair?"

"Little _baby!"_ snarls the biggest girl. "Throwing rocks 'cause she can't fight for herself!"

Chel lugs up another rock. "I won't be the one running home to her mom with bruises. And blood."

That's enough to make even the meanest girl turn tail and run. Chel's blood sings in satisfaction. It's the first time she's felt in charge of _anything_ since Mari went away.

But Chel isn't an idiot. She counts to one hundred before leaving the garden behind, one rock safely in her hand. She heads straight home, sticking to the light spilling out from houses and the adults still tarrying in the straight.

Grandma grounds her the moment she gets home. And then her parents rip her a new one. Because she stayed out so late and wandered so far from where she's allowed. Grandpa's stupid friends confirmed it, but no one saw her follow those girls off into the garden. _Her_ garden.

That's okay.

Chel hides her stone under her pillow. She has chores, so many chores. When she gets sent to bed early, she miraculously doesn't have any trouble falling asleep. She might have once tossed and turns for hours, bored out of her mind, now her mind offers an escape.

Her dreams are vivid, as if she's really walking strange arid hills or lush jungle. She's never, ever alone. Not that she ever wins the games. In races she's left in the dust, so far behind she hears only the goading laughter of her competition. They're so skilled at hide and seek she hasn't yet caught a glimpse of them, no matter the distant whispers that urge her onward, to come and _seek._ She'll catch up eventually.

The day her punishment lifts, Chel behaves. She takes a snack for later. She stays right beneath Xaya's nose and plays all his stupid boy games with his stupid boy friends.

When she challenges them all to a game of hide and seek, they rush to agree. If only because Xaya is such a good finder he'll even find Chel, even though she's so little she can squeeze into the best hiding places.

Fast as she can, Chel darts around corners until the last of the boys fall out of sight. Then she bolts for the garden.

She smiles as soon as she enters, a wave of peace falling over her. None of the bullies have come slinking back. Without them the place seems almost sacred in its silence. But this place isn't meant to be silent, not anymore. It's just like the air is holding its breath, waiting for what she'll do next.

In broad daylight Chel has no trouble finding the rock she flung from its pile. Respectfully she returns it to its pile. Then she chews her lip and frowns.

"Sorry," she mutters to thin air. "I couldn't sneak the other one out yet."

After a moment's hesitation she picks up a rock from the dirt to add it to the pile. There! She'll add a new one for every day she can't return the original, even if it means raising these rocks all the way up to the sky.

Sitting by the edge of the pool, Chel unwraps her tamale. She rips it in half, as best she can to make the parts equal. One part is still slightly bigger, so she throws it into the spring. It immediately sinks to the bottom. She lifts the other one up to eat for herself. Humans don't sacrifice _everything_ to the gods. That's why the Crocodile God got cast down, for being too greedy, and why the Dual Gods made gold so the other gods would be less thirsty for human blood.

But Chel huffs and chucks the other half into the water too.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "Whoever you are."

Just because she doesn't know what helped her doesn't mean she can't give thanks. Even nameless spirits can be nice sometimes. It's not only polite to show them gratitude, but pious. And Grandma would never let her hear if the end of it if she ever learned Chel was disrespectful to someone... _someones_ that helped her.

Chel wanted one friend. Maybe she's just gained two.

* * *

Every day Chel can, she visits her secret garden and pays tribute to the spirits there. She offers up her snack and lifts a new rock atop the cairn. In return Chel has a space all to herself, away from Xaya and the other kids. Sure, the big girls know about it, but they'll never come here ever again. Even if they don't know about the spirits they certainly know Chel and her big pile of ammo.

Sure, the garden is quiet, but it's not _lonely._ There are birds in the trees and bushes. If they sing especially nice she'll offer up some crumbs or pieces of fruit to them. Sometimes a stray dog will come by for a bit and she'll feed it too. Then she gets someone she can pet and actually play with. But this isn't the dogs' home, and they don't come by every day, because even they can sense there's only so much begging the spirits here will take.

Then, one day, when Chel chucks her first tamale half into the spring, a hand plucks it in midair.

"Excuse me," he says primly. "You're eating the second half this time, right?"

Chel stares. She knows it's impolite, but he wasn't _here_ a moment ago! He looks about her age, but his eyes are green as emeralds. His hair is even longer than Chel's, and gold as the great temples. He casually sits at the opposite edge of the spring, legs dangling into the water.

"Of course not!" she huffs. "It's for your... friend."

Because now the other spirit is here too. He slouches grouchily against the rock pile, arms crossed. He's even paler than the spring spirit, with deep blue eyes and a cloud of curly black curls fluffed up around his head.

"Yeah," the second spirit grouses, nudging his friend with a toe. "That's _my_ tribute. Be happy with your own!"

She tosses the tamale piece to him. He snatches it greedily. The gold-haired spirit pouts. Chel's heart trembles.

"W-What's wrong?" she asks. "Don't you like tamales?"

"Well, yes," admits the spring spirit. "It's just that... You give us tribute every day, while you sit here without lunch. That's not right."

"Like _you're_ one to feel guilty about stuff like that," sneers the stone spirit.

"Yes, I am! And maybe someone so nice deserves to eat her own lunch once in a while!"

The stone spirit's face twists. "What is she, your girlfriend?"

While the spring spirit sputters indignantly, Chel huffs and crosses her arms. "That's not nice!"

 _"I'm_ not nice!" argues the spirit. And he isn't. Not right now, at least.

So she fixes her stare on the spring spirit. "What's your name?" Belatedly she remembers what Grandma taught her about spirits. "A name you feel comfortable with me calling you."

The gold-haired boy cocks his head and considers this. "Call me... Miguel." His earnest smile sharpens into a smirk at the other spirit's indignant sputter.

With a conspiratorial wink she holds out her hand. "Call me Chel."

Wide-eyed, the boy rises from the spring. He skips over it, bare feet scarcely making the surface ripple, to clasp her hand in his. Up close he's tall and willowy, a whole head taller than her. "Hi, Chel. It's nice to meet you."

Chel squeezes his arm firmly. "Nice to meet you too, Miguel. Now you're _my_ friend who's a boy, and I'm your friend who happens to be a girl." She isn't quite sure what the difference between a girl friend and a girlfriend is quite yet, but she's been teased one too many time when with Xaya's friends to not be a stickler for detail.

Miguel grins, before holding out his tamale. "Friends share, right?"

She bites her lip, before conceding friends share. Even if she's just a girl and he's the spirit that saved her skin. So they plop down in the shade. Miguel rips his half in half. The spirit of the rock pile sputters some more.

"You expect me to take half the food, while you make do with a _quarter_?"

Miguel smiles. "Friends share."

After much scowling, the second spirit rises from his skips to slip around the pool. He looms over them for a moment before huffing and meticulously tearing two smaller pieces from his tamale half. "Thirds are fair!" he declares.

Chel wrinkles her nose at the scrap of tamale shoved in her face. "I don't take stuff from strangers."

"Hi, Chel," deadpans the rock spirit. "I'm sometimes called Tulio. Do you wanna be best friends forever?"

"Sure!" She smiles even brighter at his look of earnest confusion, happily taking her part from him. They eat in companionable silence, before Miguel fills the air with enough words for all three of them. Such will come to define their relationship for eternity. But they don't know that yet.


	2. all things in time

Tulio knows what he is, and what he is not.

He's not a god. He knows this very well. Gods don't live in quiet gardens with only one little girl to believe in them. Gods don't get by on games and snacks. The world is theirs, and they claim their dominions through force of faith. But he also isn't what he was before Manoa, stealing what he needed and struggling each day.

His name is still Tulio. Mostly because Miguel got stubborn. Tulio has plenty of other names that suit him better, that can lead to better places. One his names, his first and favorite, just means _big pile of rocks._ That's what he currently is, a pile of rubble real as the weight of security in a little girl's hand, in the screams of bullies who now know better than to mess with her. And then that pile of rocks had gone on to become so much more.

But how he can he be Hermes if Miguel insists he's still Miguel? Even after all _those_ names gave them?

Tulio leans against his rock pile again, frowning. It grows bigger by the day as Chel finds more stones to stack. This forgotten garden is their playground, their one place in the world. Nothing outside it feels quite real. Only when they tag along with Chel does her surroundings seem like it could be their city too. Still, the waking world by Chel is just as true as when they find her in dreams.

Aside from the quiet bubbling of Miguel's pool and the muffled sounds of the half-real city, all Tulio can hear is Miguel's happy babbling. He and Chel sit together, braiding each other's hair. Miguel is a lot better at it than Chel is. Or at least more bold in his crazy hair styles.

Chel notices him pouting. "Sure you don't want to join us?"

"Nah," he deadpans. "I'm good."

Not that he's alone. The puppy in his lap whines until he starts scratching it behind the ears again. Even if it's furless, a dog is still a dog.

How long have they been here? Days? Weeks? Tulio can't tell. In some ways he's old as the stones, old as the wild woods. In others he's just a newborn, far younger than even Chel.

Tulio's grown up at least once before. He faintly remembers being small and insignificant, before suddenly exploding into something _more._ He also knows Miguel's done it a lot more than he has, by many more names and faces.

"Hey, Miguel?"

"Hm?" Miguel flicks his gaze his way, even as his fingers weave strands of silky hair into something else entirely.

Tulio frowns at the muddled mess of memory that swirls in his head. Their stories aren't straight yet. But, despite the pain and jealousy Miguel's face evokes, that's almost muted by a tide of better feelings. Like fun and happiness and... "Um, what exactly are we to each other?"

"Best friends." Chel rolls her eyes matter-of-factly. "What else would you be?"

"We're that," Miguel agrees. "But we're also... um..."

"Partners," Tulio blurts out, solving his own problem. "Through... through everything."

"Yes!" His partner laughs like the sunshine. "We're partners!" Then his joy tumbles into confusion. "What does that make Chel?"

"Duh. Myself. A girl that happens to be your friend."

Tulio chews his lip as he considers this. Chel is special, their first and only link to this place. But he can't claim her all to himself, because that would leave Miguel without anyone. And Chel would punch him if Tulio ever tried to suggest he could boss her around. Yet they have only known Chel for a tiny fraction of the time they've known each other. How can she ever be special in the way Miguel is?

"You're our... partner-in-training?"

They pause. Chel shrugs contentedly. "Sure. Why not?"

Miguel juts his chin out defiantly. "Why not just our partner? What would she even be training for?"

"I don't know!" Tulio snaps. "This is... all a trial basis. Or something."

"Uh-huh. Now let me pet your dog."

He rolls his eyes but gets up from his rock pile anyway, gliding over Miguel's pool to dump the dog in her lap. The puppy promptly jumps up to lick her silly, causing her to tumble over with giggles. Tulio sits down by them just to relish in the closeness. He groans when Miguel's deft fingers find his hair next.

"Don't bother," he grumbles. "It's too short."

Miguel scoffs. "Then grow it out, silly."

Tulio frowns sharply, not that either of his partners can see. He wriggles his clever, _little_ fingers thoughtfully. Being small isn't so bad. He's done some of his best work as just a tiny baby, right? He stole all of Miguel's treasures and made a few of his own, impressed the adults so much he'd earned his place among them. When he'd been all of two days old.

However long they've been in Manoa, it's been a lot longer than two days.

Tulio squints upward. Beyond the garden walls the temples in the distance gleam like golden mountains. He knows the tallest of them is empty, just waiting to be claimed. And that all the buildings around them are stuffed with _gold._ He knows gold is very important. Enough to steal for. To fight for. Maybe even enough to die for.

Maybe Tulio isn't strong enough to claim it by himself, but dogs like him. If he gathers enough and has them steal all the gold they can see to drop by his stones, surely the grown-ups will notice him? Realize how quick and clever he is, that he deserves to sit among their greatest gods as an equal?

Miguel tugs his hair firmly. Tulio winces as his curls are forced into submission. "Stop moping like an old grumpy goat."

"B-But-"

Miguel jerks him again, forcing his gaze from the lofty temple back down the garden. Two more of the puppy's littermates have scrambled out of hiding. Chel is now a hysterical wreck beneath them, slowly being licked to death. "Whatever comes tomorrow, stupid, you can't forget about _today."_

Tulio remembers their yesterday too, one with only each other. Now they have Chel and the home she's built for them snack by snack, stone by stone. She's no great priestess and their garden no grand temple, but how had that worked out the last time?

He sighs his surrender and wrenches away from Miguel to rescue Chel from the puppy pile. And yelps when five others decide to show their appreciation by stampeding him.

* * *

Koli and his wife were blessed with three daughters. Only their Pana was blessed to survive the Dark Days, given the chance to live her own life. Chel is their only granddaughter, already so bright for her age. They do not hope for her to one day reach high places; they know it as a certainty. In Manoa there is status even a child of the Vine can obtain, should she the drive and a bit of luck.

Chel has been... lost, since Mari's sacrifice. She's spurned all children in the area and picked fights. Grief and rage are strange beasts, especially for one so young, who has never before felt the need to wrestle with such symptoms of the human condition. It will not be the last time. Life is not kind to the People of the Vine. When a god is displeased or is simply cruel for the sake of it, one of their people is almost always the first upon the altar.

Chel is not quite the same little girl, who used to wear her heart so openly. Her _true_ smiles do not come so readily, and she hoards secrets like the Jaguar God does so. But Chel is also braver, ready with a witty retort for every insult thrown her way, and wicked in her punches. Whoever her new friends are have taught her to fight dirty.

Koli, gods help him, has tried his best to divine Chel's secrets. Pana and her husband have enough on their plates as is, since Koli's damned joints won't let him work anymore. But their little girl is canny. Wherever she runs off to, she slips all the little brats of old friends he sends to shadow her.

But Koli and Sija are only annoyed, not fearful. Chel's secrets are the mischievous sort, not the terrible. There is no strain to her smiles, no mysterious cuts or bruises. She has not cried or screamed in her sleep since those first weeks after Mari's death. She skips home, beaming bright as the sun and secret as the shadows. The only thing remotely out of the ordinary are her hairstyles. One of her new little friends is clever with their braiding and has a wild imagination. Chel comes home with intricate knots almost like a crown. Sija is almost impressed by the technique, if it did not so damned long to unravel it all before bedtime.

Not that Chel is allowed to keep her friends _entirely_ secret. Sija at least coaxes names like Tuli and Mixchel out of her. Their mothers are called something like Maya and Tona.

Of course the names ring no bells, not among Koli or his extensive network of friends. He also knows Chel's not lying. Sija suspects her new playmates are truly Manoan, People of Gold rather than of the Vine. There's nothing outright illicit about it, so for now neither Pana nor Teo press Chel to invite her friends over for supper. Yet.

Today, however, Koli settles for grumbling about the gods damned heat. He retreats away from the blazing sun outside to the relative coolness of the kitchen. Pana has allowed the fire to die for the time being. Now the hearth is cool stone, the best relief his old bones can get without shuffling down to the fountains.

At the sound of little claws against stone, he growls just as he crosses the kitchen threshold. At least the pest that scurries past his feet is just a little mouse, and not a diseased ra-

What Koli's old eyes have dismissed as a shadow rears up. The mouse squeals as fangs sink in, coils refusing to let go.

The snake is absorbed in its prey. It has no chance to strike again before Koli brings his walking stick down, again and again. He does not let up until the head is pulverized beyond recognition, then nudged by his stick into the fireplace. The snake head might have yet been alive to have its vengeance. From its scales, so vivid despite the beating, Koli knows damn well he would have died like the mouse if those fangs had found his foot instead. With his size, he would not have been granted the mercy of a near instantaneous death. His end would have been slow, agonizing, and inevitable.

Koli lets a reverent prayer fall from his lips. Then another one, because he knows a miracle when he sees one.

The mouse, freed by the first bash to the snake's head, has limped off somewhere. Koli tries to find the poor thing and put it out of its misery, but can't find the corner it crawled off to.

The minor chaos that unfolds when the rest of the family realizes what nearly happened is most welcome indeed, considering the alternative. Koli happily endures Pana's crushing hugs, just as he does the tears and mucus Chel and Xaya smear into his clothes. His ear throbs when Sija boxes it for his idiocy in not noting the snake sooner. The kiss after is all the sweeter. Unlike snakebite, this pain will heal in time.

Teo prods the corpse with a stick, frowning. He confirms it is one of the worst of the Snake Goddess' spawn to be bitten by. "Do you figure Lady Itzli took pity on you at the last minute?"

"I highly doubt we would ever be blessed with the Lady of the Liquid Flame's grace," Sija says dryly, for it is bad manners to openly call a goddess a treacherous bitch.

"Lord Kinich, perhaps?" Pana ventures. "The Eagle God is the enemy of snakes."

Xaya frowns in earnest curiosity. "Is there a Mouse God?"

A minor debate ensues as they discuss which specific deity, if any, should be thanked. Curiously Chel stays silent and worries her lip until Sija reprimands her for it. Koli is not thick enough to think his granddaughter is still shaken by his near-death. She has bounced back quicker than Xaya. In the end they decide to create a makeshift altar by the hearth and shower all spirits, great and minor, with their gratitude. Such can be done when the omens attribute no one in particular.

This ruling is what prompts Chel to break her silence and quietly ask if her friends can come over for supper tomorrow night.

Her parents agree, on the condition it's an early dinner and her friends leave early enough that they can make it back to their own mothers by dark.

Koli expects two children of the merchant caste, comfortably Manoan without being too high in status.

The boys that respectfully appear on the threshold the following afternoon are anything but Manoan. They wear only simple hip-wraps, without even dye to brighten them, like the poorest children, but everything else about them is... other. Miguel has green eyes and hair like gold, the envy of girls everywhere, but bound up tonight so as to not drape over the table. So solves the mystery of Chel's elaborate new styles. Tulio's eyes are dark blue, his riotous curls just long enough to be tied back.

Foreign as they are, their manners are perfect, respectable enough that Sija stops scowling at them to turn her expectant stare on Xaya instead. Their grandson drapes his elbows all over the table and spewers crumbs with every tactless question.

"Is Manoan your first language?" Teo attempts awkwardly.

"Nope," Miguel chirps. "Not even the tenth."

"Our family... travels a lot," Tulio supplies. "You pick it up as you go."

Manoa has hosted its rare share of foreign dignitaries over the years. Even if such guests are blindfolded and their ears stuffed with wax in and out of the city. And their every movement inside it shadowed by guards. There are certainly no such in residence now.

"Well, I grew up speaking Manoan and you could've fooled me," Pana says brightly. "Where are you from originally?"

Miguel frowns in deep thought. Pah! A boy his age should certainly know his roots. It is Tulio who answers only, "East." Miguel nods in agreement.

Every adult at the table shares a skeptic look over the oblivious children. Even Koli, who has never stepped foot outside the valley proper, knows damn well there is only jungle and the occasional village to the east. Manoa's tributaries are more heavily concentrated in every other direction but the one bordered by endless ocean. The people of those villages speak a rougher dialect of Manoan and look much the same.

But these are not prisoners in an interrogation. These are boys, Chel's first friends since Mari, and dinner guests. So their family does not pry at the vague but truthful answers given to their questions.

Eventually the topics drift to safer ground. The children prattle on about their games. Sija and Pana take the effusive praises of their cooking with skeptical pride. Because they know little bullshit artists they hear theme. And both boys are exceptionally skilled for their age. Though Miguel's enthusiasm is much more genuine than Tulio's. Just as Koli awkwardly attempts to parse out Miguel's very, _very_ detailed questions about every minute detail he thinks to ask about Manoa's laws and civil planning. Maybe he _is_ a dignitary son's after all. Or his parents are so ineffective as spies they passed on such obviousness to their son.

"Have your families been in Manoa long?" Koli asks. "I'm afraid I've never quite seen any with your looks before."

"We just recently arrived," Tulio answers breezily.

"We met Chel that day!" Miguel blurts out. He grins sheepishly at her. "She's our first f... well, our first friend here. Our only friend."

"I wonder why," Xaya mutters. He yelps when Chel kicks him under the table.

"I had a choice between them and some very mean girls." Chel grins at her friends, who blush back. "Only it wasn't much of a choice at all."

Koli grudgingly concedes his heart softened enough to stop pushing for more tangible answers. At least for tonight. Sija invites both boys back for dinner the same time next week in the sweet, maternal tone that demands absolute devotion.

"Of course." Miguel grins. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Wise eyes take in both boys, humbly dressed and so slight in their builds. Koli has certainly kept track of all the food wolfed down tonight.

"With your mothers' permission, of course," Sija adds. These boys do not know her well enough to know the heaviness behind those words, of what she might do those women if Chel's dear little friends always come by like starving ragamuffins.

"..Sure."

Teo frowns sharply at a pause just a tinge too long. Outside dark is swift coming. "Boys, you _do_ have somewhere to go tonight, right? Because-"

Tulio crosses his arms, bristling like a kicked ocelot. "What do you take us for, homeless orphans?"

Koli's stomach drops. Suddenly things make sad sense. Manoa takes no slaves, not officially, but Koli's people are still little better. The people outside their valley are not so merciful. Perhaps their home civilization is in ruins, their parents slaughtered. Perhaps someone had thought two little boys with such vivid eyes striking enough to keep as spoils of war, as the gods of Manoa took Lady Paquini and her people as their own.

"We have a home," Miguel offers quietly. "It's nothing like we used to have before, but it's nice. Quaint. Like what we had when we were little more than babies."

"And your families?" Pana murmurs.

"I have a big sister! She's my twin. We've always had our mom. Dad..." Miguel crosses his arms. "Was never really part of the picture. He... died. Before we were born."

Tulio's blue eyes dart to him. "My dad travels a lot. Because of his job. So it's mostly been me and my mom."

"It's going to be dark soon," Sija says. "You should head home to them then."

Tulio snorts. "Please. My mom... sleeps the day away. She'd just be getting up around now."

"All the more reason to hurry." Chel shoots them a meaningful glance. "Wouldn't want her to wake up with you still gone, right?"

The boys nod gamely at this. They hurry up from the table, gushing compliments the whole way out the door. Once there Tulio bolts into the night.

Miguel pauses to stoop down. A mouse scampers into his waiting palm.

Koli gapes. He has seen that little bastard just this morning. He knows it's the same one like he knows the sky is blue. There are two puncture scars in its fur, naked patches the same size as a snake's fangs. Despite them its black eyes are bright and its nose twitches in the picture of perfect health.

Miguel catches his astonishment. He winks back and spins away around the corner. By the time Koli lurches to the door the boy is out of sight. Like he never existed at all.

"Chel," he croaks out.

"Yes, Grandpa?"

"...Have you been entirely honest with us?"

She crosses her arms huffily. "I don't lie, Grandpa! Not to family!"

"Lies by omission still count, Chel," Sija adds sharply. "Is there anything else about your friends you would like to add?"

"I mean, it's not like they're... _gods,_ Grandma. They're just nice spirits that saved me from being bullied! And now we're friends forever 'cause we shared lunch!"

Sija and Chel's parents, who expected her revelation to be anything else, gape at her and then at each other. Xaya's attempts at denial are thoroughly shushed.

"You're certain, Chel?" Koli murmurs, kneeling down to her level despite his aching knees.

"Duh, Grandpa. They're my age. It's not like they're _lords_ of anything. All they have is one little pool and a pile of rocks."

And one has definitely saved his life. If not Chel's too. Koli has no damned idea how old those girls are, what they might have done to his grandchild if fate hadn't intervened.

"We... We invited them for dinner," Teo says blankly. _"Again."_

"Yes," Sija declares. "And we'll keep being perfect hosts until they day they decline our invitation."

It's not like some families don't have votive deities, private shrines for humble household protectors. Perhaps the People of the Vine do not have such luck in attracting the favor of Manoa's native spirits, who prefer to favor the power and ancestry of the Golden People.

But there also comes time for that luck to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermes is of course a thief god and also associated with dogs. Within 24 hours of being born he stole Apollo's cattle but proceeded to do so many other awesome things Apollo forgave him and he got a seat in Olympus anyway XD Apollo is a healing god and also of snakes and averting evil fates. An older aspect is of Apollo Smintheus - with mice being both spreaders of his famines, but also associated as agents of his subterranean oracles. Probably because the Greeks noticed they sprang up from the ground the same way his 'prophetic' vapors inspired frenzies in the oracles.
> 
> Hermes is likely derived from the root word of 'herm' - ancient stone markers, and likely just began as their personification. Apollo's origins are a lot more... varied. Both have (mostly) solid heritages - after centuries of consolidation and agreement.
> 
> This is the hardest reset either of their cults had had for centuries - so some of the older, more obscure aspects are shining through here ; ) Because the Romans not only pretty much swiped all of Greek myth for themselves, but rubbed their grimy hands over everything in the Mediterranean basin. 
> 
> Also, our boys really do want the chance to reinvent themselves. Mostly in everything concerning the Zeus-Jupiter dumped on them when he got elevated to head of the pantheon.


	3. sow the seeds

As the oldest kid in the family Xaya just has certain responsibilities he's stuck with. Looking after Chel is another. Beating up the bullies that made her cry is another. He's quite miffed two random spirits younger than he is helped Chel where he couldn't. And also proud his little sister scared them off with her impeccable eye. He's learned the hard way to not skip rocks with her anymore. Miguel has taught her to throw them twice as hard, so they dance out on the water where Xaya's sink like... stones.

Xaya has also learned to put up with preparing a bit of extra food to place out on the altar every day, because it's gone every dusk and dawn. Just like he helps Chel carry snacks and small baubles to throw in some random spring in a garden. And carry bigger rocks she can't, to stack up on the pile behind the pool. Because Chel's spirits saved her from bullies. They stopped Grandpa from burning forever down in Xibalba with Lady Itzli.

They infiltrate his dreams with embarrassing visions if he's too lazy in getting up for their offerings. Or braid his hair in his sleep. Or make mice pop up in his food or dogs run off with his favorite ball when he's trying to enjoy a good game between his friends.

Aside from his new duties every day, Xaya is perfectly content to ignore Chel's new weird friends. He stays clear of them and they return the favor.

At first.

Then comes the day stupid Yio is stuck home helping his moms prepare a big meal for his grandma and their teams are left an uneven number. Xaya rolls his eyes skyward when Kiyo has the bright idea to shout at Chel and ask if she wants to join. What his sister lacks in size she more than makes up for in skill and ferocity.

"Can't do it," she calls back, already on her usual path down to the spirits' home. "I'm already hanging out with more friends."

"Great," Xaya grates out. "Go along and play."

"Please," sneers Zihual. "Since when did you make any new friends after Mari the crybaby joined the god of crybabies?"

Chel's face hardens. Xaya gulps. He knows very well what her new friends can do. "Zihual!" he snaps. "Say sorry, you idiot."

"No," Chel cuts in. "You can apologize _after I crush you into the dust."_

Xaya sighs and divides the teams accordingly. He almost puts himself with Zihual, if only to hopefully spare the idiot from being smote, but in the end sides with Chel after all. He's faced enough grief from her _friends_ these past few weeks. It'll be nice to be in the audience for a change.

They make it to their makeshift arena out in a wider plaza scarcely visited this time of year. In his paranoia Xaya sweeps the area for suspicious mice or dogs. His eye instead falls on two boys Chel's age that plop down on the side to watch. At first glance they look perfectly ordinary, without crazy curls or gold hair. Then Xaya checks again. They're wearing the hip wraps, blue and green, that Mom made as tribute for saving her dad's life. The taller kid smirks and the shorter one grins in a way Xaya now knows all too well.

Sweat beads down his neck when Kiyo spots them too. "Hey, do you guys wanna play?"

"Oh, come on!" Zihual snaps. "Do you really need two more babies on your team when mine is all ready to beat you?"

The spirits in disguise only smile wider, casually waving off both the insult and the invitation. They ominously promise to try a game later.

When the round begins, Chel tears her way toward the ball flying her way. Zihual has kicked it as hard as he can. Xaya ignores the urge to push his sister out of the way. She hits it right back. Xaya near fumbles on the ball sent his way, but still manages to hit the rock that serves as Zihual's designated goal.

Chel furiously carries their team into the lead. And keeps them there.

Chel's ferocious skill aside, the spirits hang back on the sidelines. Their only direct contributions are Miguel's mocking poetry and Tulio's impressive list of swear words. ven the ones uttered in languages Xaya will never know sound downright dirty.

"Come on!" Zihual pants, red-faced and sweating. "T-The game isn't over yet."

"Yes it is," grinds out a boy from his own dang team, as they all give up on their self-appointed captain. "Chel crushed you into the dust. Now stop being a jerk and apologize already."

Zihual furiously searches the crowd for supporters and obviously finds not a single one. Beneath many impatient, unimpressed stares he finally chokes out sorry. Chel crosses her arms expectantly. "Fine," he huffs. "Mari isn't a crybaby. She's the nicest person I ever met. Lord Cassipa is lucky to call her a daughter. I was a jerk and a butt-head to both of you. And now all I can say is sorry, it was wrong of me, and that I will never, ever do it again."

"Apology accepted," Chel accepts gracefully. Then she smiles, an edge to her eye that makes Zihual gulp. "Mock my friends again and you'll regret it. _Forever."_

"Okay," he squeaks.

By then Zihual is ready to bolt with what's left of his dignity. That is when Chel's friends finally prance onto the field to introduce themselves. Xaya sighs in relief when they offer their names as just Tuli and Mixchel, without getting into the full truth of who and what they are.

Zihual naturally balks at the offer of a rematch. No one lets him go either. If they do then they're back down to odd numbers. He stands in utter astonishment as Chel and 'Mixchel' invite themselves onto his team. Xaya, not a total idiot, chooses 'Tuli' to balance out the divinity per side.

The gods invented this game and the spirits can certainly play too. Even the boldest boys inch to the edge of the field, as the ball between the two spirits flies at a pace that urts even to look at. Kiyo's jaw drops as the ball smashes into the stairs, and the cracks left as it bounces back into the dust.

"Woah," breathes Tlipe. "What are their moms feeding them?"

"Hot air," Chel huffs, "for _their big fat heads."_

Off she storms into the game. Xaya squawks hopelessly after her. He races to pull her out before she gets her head kicked off by accident.

Chel fearlessly snags the ears of both spirits. All boys watch the ball sail off into the sky, to never be seen again by mortal eyes. Then they gape at the girl who has two whining 'boys' in her grip, secure and ruthless as Grandma's. She marches them both over to their flabbergasted teammates. Trapped in Chel's inescapable grip, they mumble apologies for taking a game too seriously, and promise to never do it again.

Only then does Chel grin and release them. Both spirits rub at their ears, wincing. "Excellent. Now, what do we play next?"

"Archery?" 'Mixchel' suggests hopefully.

"No!" they all shout as one, because gods forbid that kid be given an _actual_ deadly weapon, even a toy-sized one.

'Tuli' rubs the back of his neck. "I... have puppies?"

Zihual brightens, before his brows furrow again. "...How many puppies?"

'Tuli' smirks before a furless hoard of them stampede the area. The boys are too overwhelmed by yipping, playful balls of love to ponder their miraculous appearance. By sundown most boys head home with one. Zihual swaggers off with 'Warrior'... the smallest and sweetest puppy of the litter, with a white tuft of fur dangling into her eyes. Chel sighs longingly after them.

"Can't we just-"

"No," Xaya sighs wearily, covered in muddy paw prints and puppy slobber. "You know what Grandma says about not needing another mouth to feed."

"But-"

He jerks a thumb back at her friends, who have dropped their disguises for their usual smug faces now that they're the only ones around to care. "You brought _them_ home. And we kept them. One's already the spirit of dogs or something!"

"Or something," Tulio agrees, in usual cryptic fashion. Alrighty then. He offers Chel a consoling smile. "There's no shortage of dogs out there needing a bit of extra love, Chel. There will always be more to play with."

"Yeah," she sighs at last. "You're right." She quirks a hopeful brow at them. "You two staying for dinner?"

Her friends cast their heads upward, at the growing dark. "Not today," Miguel sighs. "Family matters, you know?"

"Yeah." Tulio pouts. "Like breakfast. And... ugh."

They grant swift goodbyes, warmly returned by Chel and cautiously by Xaya. Then the spirits wink of sight, back to wherever the heck spirits go. Once he's sure they're alone he bends down to his sister to whisper, "'Family matters?'"

Chel rolls her eyes back with him. "Friends can't eat over _every night,_ stupid." She giggles conspiratorially. "Besides, I think Tulio is technically supposed to be grounded."

"B-By who?"

His sister looks at him like he's an idiot. In that moment Xaya feels like one.

Duh. Both spirits have already admitted to having actual families (which was oddly reassuring to hear). That's why Grandma and Grandpa set up the altar at home the way they did, so both Chel's friends _and_ any that call them immediate family might partake in their offerings too.

* * *

"Impudent little children!" chokes out the hideous, deformed bat-thing, the size of a child. Its diseased claws snag deeper into golden hair. "Y-You... w-w-ill... n-never bel-"

The family huddled outside Sija's shut door wince at a loud, sudden crack. Koli, on the other side of the fray, wearily lowers a useless staff. Guess Miguel finally gave up on strangling that spawn of Lord Tzinacon's. Far more reassuring to him is Sija's sudden gasp of her air, her first full breath all day. Koli drops his staff with trembling hands. Miguel leans by what had been his wife's sickbed, helping her sit upright. Color immediately floods back into her cheeks.

Sija spends her next healthy breath not thanking the spirit for his generosity, but scolding his stupidity. "Young man, attacking that filth with your bare hands _was the most foolish thing you have ever done!"_

Miguel smiles, despite wincing from the stern fingers around his ear. "Trust me, Lady Sija, it really isn't!"

"Hmph." Sija withdraws her hand to slip it into Koli's waiting, reverent hold. "One prays your sister has more sense than you. The last thing an immortal mother needs is suffering heart attacks twice over from another like you."

He beams. "She always likes to say she got all of Mom's common sense and I got Dad's idiocy. Boy, was she right!"

Their family takes this bickering as the sign is everything is alright. Koli lets himself be bowled out of the way as his children and grandchildren latch onto Sija, trying very hard not to cry and most failing miserably. Tears drip from his own weary eyes.

"We can never thank you enough," he murmurs to the healer spirit at his side. "Lord Miguel."

The spirit winces at the title. "P-Please, Lord Koli, just Miguel. And it was nothing, really. You guys are... practically family."

"In that case, young man, stop addressing us like _we're_ divinity," Koli tells him gruffly. "'Grandma' and 'Grandpa' will do just fine. Assuming it ain't blasphemous to your own grandparents, of course."

Koli can't help his smile when Miguel sputters before giving up on words to hug him. He grunts in surprise when the little spirit lifts him off the floor, if only for a moment, but not in pain. His joints just don't ache anymore. He carries the staff out of habit, and to avoid the odd looks from his friends.

His good humor falters somewhat at the guilty edge to the boy's smile. And his partner's suspicious absence. "Now, where has young Tulio gotten off too?"

"He's... around." Miguel deflates a bit. "He was just... making sure, that's all. Just in case."

Koli has no opportunity to question further, when the shadows waver. Out stumbles Tulio, wide-eyed and frantic. He latches onto Miguel's shoulders, muttering about ugly rats and huge, air-sucking bats. His partner pats his back in concern.

"Boys," he breaks in slowly. "Tulio. Were you... down in _Xibalba?"_

All present forget Sija's miraculous survival to gape their way. Tulio shrinks back into the shadows. "...Maybe?" And scowls when every adult present threatens to lose their minds. "It's not like anything actually _noticed_ me. I'm way too good a thief for that!"

Sija's eyes darken ominously. "Exactly where did you intend to steal my soul, young man?"

"Um... Lady Eupana's sounds kinda pleasant. And I think together Miguel and I could have-"

Sija rises out of bed to scold him for his idiocy, ranting off every reason the Nine Houses are not meant for kind, selfless, dumb little spirits to brave. Tulio stands like a statue, nodding diligently for every warning given. Koli leaves her too it. His wife is still wrapping up her rant when he returns after stumbling around their storage for a small eternity.

Miguel gasps in delight. Sija gasps at the scandal. "After this, you're _rewarding_ them?"

"One can't stop Lord Kinich from setting every dusk, or Lord Cassipa from raining every time he wishes to weep," Koli answers simply. "The least we can do is give them something other than their naked hands to do it with."

Koli's hunting days are long past him and Teo was never much of one to begin with. Miguel picks up the bow reverently, stringing it with expert grace. Perhaps the weapon shrinks to fit him. Perhaps he grows into it. Spirits are curious things. "It's perfect," he breathes. "Thank you."

Tulio bends for an old flint knife. The old torch he takes into his other hand flares high and bright, as if brand new. "Yeah," he murmurs. "This'll work. For now, at least."

Chel and Xaya, wide-eyed, reach for the pile too. And scowl when their parents haul them back.

"But-"

"No."

"Not until you're older." Teo gapes at her wife. She tilts her chin defiantly back, before frowning down at their children. "We'll discuss it then. Right now neither of you are certainly fighting demons or storming down into Xibalba or what-not."

Miguel eyes the other bow, even older and more abused. "Can I... borrow this too for a bit?"

"Who is it for?" Teo asks bluntly.

"I..." The boy's face crumples. "She never introduced herself to you yet. Not properly."

"Ah," Koli sighs simply. He might mean everything from his twin to a formidable goddess of a mother. It is certainly not his place to press for more. "Go right ahead, then. That old thing does me no good anymore."

Miguel thanks him again and winks out of existence, both bows in hand. Tulio apparently does to. Koli and Sija, not having been born yesterday, head upstairs not long after their grandchildren allegedly slink up to bed. They find the spirit flaunting his new torch, summoning it at will. Its flame casts no sparks.

Then Tulio passes it into Chel's curious hands. For a moment it flares brighter, warm as summer to even the grandparents lurking on the stairway. They pretend not to notice when she shoves it guiltily back into Tulio's hands, coming up stairs to stop Xaya from likely burning his hands off. They shoo Tulio and his new torch off. Let him go show it off to his nocturnal mother and stop tempting their grandchildren down impossible paths.

After seeing their children put to bed, Teo and Pana eventually retire themselves. Sija, grumpy and thoroughly exhausted, slips into a healthy sleep, deep and restful. Koli lays awake, his arm around her warmth, sharply listening for when her breathing will hitch and this miraculous dream will come crashing down around them.

Dawn finds them first. Koli is on the verge of finally relaxing when a shadow blots out the morning light. His head snaps to the girl perched on the windowsill, light as feather. Her eyes are green as her brother's, her features near the same but sharper, more leaner. She is clad in only an animal skin, her black hair tightly bound. His bow is slung around her shoulder, trophies of demon parts dangling from the quiver.

"Dia," she offers with a resigned sigh. "Because apparently _that's_ what we're going with this time around."

Koli blinks and the girl is gone. If he didn't know any better than he would mistake her for a dream.

* * *

Lin dreams of her daughter near every night. She has since Lord Cassipa's priestess declared her Mari beautiful enough to be his tribute. On the bad nights she dreams of her little girl's eyes, wide and fearful, as callous hands drag her to her death. On the worst nights she'll dream of the sacrifice itself, her baby bashed in the back of the head, her little body sent hurling into the Rain God's cenote. Her bones rotting in the dark waters below, with all those that had come before her.

But tonight is a good night, rare as they are. Mari and Chel sit giggling, grand ladies welcoming their dolls to a sumptuous feast. So Lin sighs and leans back to soak up the memory. Trying to call out to her daughter, to break the idyllic pattern of the past, always has her jerk awake early.

This is not quite a memory. Lin has never seen this garden in reality, not anything that even could have inspired its serene pool and the odd cairn of rocks piled high behind it. The girls do not play alone. A strange boy is wholly absorbed in their game. His golden hair cascades luxuriously around him as he moves the dolls, giving them each unique girlish voices that belie his lean body. Atop the rocks sits another boy, staring off into the distance as if keeping watch.

"Hi, Mommy," Mari calls brightly. "Wanna play?"

Lin near robs sobbing to her. But that will only disturb the flow of this fantasy. "Y-Yes, sweetie. Always."

The golden boy sits up, grinning. "Here. You can have Mari and I'll be Cyrene."

"That's not her name," Chel huffs.

"It is for this game," the boy argues primly. "She's Cyrene, Queen of Cyrene, and she's visiting from far away, so you better be a proper hostess."

Chel snorts. "What sort of queen is named after her city?"

"Cyrene is named _for_ Cyrene, thank you. Of course the city got named after her. She's a huntress strong enough to kill lions _with her bare hands."_

Mari cocks her head curiously. "What about jaguars?"

"Those too!"

Lin's hands tremble as they take Himi. She hasn't seen the doll since the chaos before the call for Lord Cassipa's tribute. She must still be with Chel, if not thrown out in her grief. Discretely she raises the doll to her nose. The dream is a vivid one. It still smells of her Mari, though the freshness of the world after a rainstorm must be a nightmare bleeding through from the terrible days after.

Lin moves Himi diligently, even though her eyes and ears are for Mari alone. _Princess_ Mari, for this game, just as Chel is Lady Chel. The boy continues to insist he is _not_ Lord Miguel, but Queen Cyrene, and that he really must hear Queen Himi's proposals for cutting expenditures on her colonies out in Doll Dorado. For awhile Lin simply goes along with it. This is what she gets for listening to her mother's passionate rants on politics.

"Sweetheart," she murmurs at last, when Mari's playmates are absorbed in a debate over... trading rights of incense and tamales.

"Yes, Mommy?"

"Am... Am I dreaming? I don't quite feel like I'm dreaming."

"You are," calls the boy from atop the rocks. "So is she. It's a loophole thing."

"Exactly!" Mari grins. "You're asleep at home and I'm asleep with all my sisters at Daddy's. But we're also _here,_ right at the same time! Isn't that neat?"

Lin's husband owns a house too close to the water, one prone to flooding. Mari had called him 'Dad' for months, because she tried being like a big girl like Chel. Unless...

Lin sobs, clutching Himi close to her chest. She weeps so hard she expects the sky to open up above, to drown her little girl and all her imaginary friends in her flood of sorrow.

She freezes when Mari squeezes her right back, tight as her little arms can. "Shush, Mommy. Don't cry. I help stop that, remember?"

Lin remembers all too well. Mari is as beautiful as the day she lost her, garbed in rich blue, shrouded with silver and sapphires. Chel, though... Chel is changed. Mari remains freshly five. Chel has always been a bit taller, but the height difference is even more noticeable now, her features slightly finer. Perhaps it is because Lin still glimpses Chel at a distance, for all she tries to avoid her, while Mari's visage is forever frozen on her day of sacrifice.

Which does nothing to explain the boys.

"Of course, sweetheart," she whispers. "And you do a very good job of it."

Mari beams proudly. Hours pass as she rambles on about Lord Cassipa's castle in the clouds, all its great hiding places and all the new sisters she has to play with. Not that they can replace Chel, of course. She's special, even more special than Himi. In turn Mari asks how her father and grandmother are doing, if they have gotten the house all cleaned up after Daddy stopped the rain.

Miguel and Chel retreat to a quiet corner with their game. The other boy continues his vigil, as the stars turn overhead.

"Hey, guys," he calls as dark blue starts paling to gray. "Time to wrap things up for now."

Lin clings to her daughter's doll tighter, because Mari's arms are solidly wrapped around her own. "D-Don't wake me up. Let me stay here."

"Mommy." Mari rolls her eyes matter-of-factly. "You've got things to do, remember? So do I. Daddy would be sad if I just sleep all day away too."

"W-When will I see you again?"

"Three nights, Mari's mom," Chel assures.

"Yep." The boy on the rocks nods in affirmative. "It's simpler to do this one at a time. For now, at least."

"I love you, sweetheart," Lin chokes out, as night gives way to dawn.

"I love you more, Mommy."

"And I love you most-"

Lin mumbles the last aloud, as she blearily cracks her eyes open to a ruthless new day. Gone is the garden. Gone is her daughter. Her arms squeeze their bundle tighter.

Wait...

Her husband snores soundly on as Lin sits up. The doll in her arms proves this another dream. She raises it to her nose. It is still Himi, still smelling of Mari, fresh with rain and slightly stained from the garden. Lin pinches herself. And remains awake.

Before the house can wake she stows Himi in a safe place, where neither Mox or her mother will seek to look. Lin mindlessly makes breakfast and goes about her day. The family left to her notices nothing amiss. Whenever she gets a free moment she checks on Himi's hiding place. Every time the doll smiles its reassurance.

Lin throws out her last serving of maize to justify a trip to the market. These past months she has detoured through endless streets to avoid Pana and her children. Now there is one in particular she seeks.

She finds Chel down the street from her home, gently swinging her doll by arms. The little girl smiles brightly at her. Expectantly.

"Good morning, Mari's mom! How are you are?"

"G-Good morning, Chel. I-I'm... fine, actually." For once, that's the truth. Lin hesitates, before pushing on to the greeting she and Pana had once reserved for each other's daughters. "How are you and Mina doing today?"

Chel waves a grandiose hand to the doll in her lap. "I'm good, Mari's mom, but this actually Cyrene. She's Queen of Cyrene. She is very passionate about her civil systems."

"T-That's nice, dear," Lin chokes out. "She and... Queen Himi had quite the discussion about it last night."

The girl nods gravely. "It tired me and Queen Cyrene out. So we're gonna take a break until Princess Mari can see the rest of her court."

"Of course. S-Shall Queen Himi expect them back in three nights?"

Chel grins. "Uh-huh. See you later, Mari's mom."

"...See you later, Lady Chel."

The day passes uneventfully. Himi never vanishes from her hiding place and Lin drifts off in her first dreamless sleep in months. She awakes the morning after to her poor Mox doing his best to stifle his sadness. His pillow is thoroughly soaked with tears. Lin calmly agrees with his rather determined request to take a walk, just to clear their heads and escape their home for a bit.

They wander the city streets until they happen across a quiet corner. A stray dog lures their eye. An unknown force drags their feet into an empty garden, occupied only by stones and a silent spring. Sunlight twinkles innocently off the waters. The shadows seem to quietly laugh to themselves.

On the second day Lin and Mox wake to her mother furiously preparing breakfast with a vigor she has not held in decades. After barely touching her portion she storms down to Lord Cassipa's temple to pray for their little girl. She returns for a late dinner, and starts a tepid conversation about street planning and proper taxation. They are tarry late at the table, anxious to sleep and anxious to leave.

When Lin can stand the stalemate no longer she retrieves Himi from her hiding place and brings the doll forth. Her family stare as if it is Mari, miraculously returned.

"...Queen Himi?" her mother ventures thickly. "The one who had quite the conversation with Queen Cyrene?"

"Queen of Cyrene?" Mox croaks. "Who kills lions and jaguars?"

"Princess Mari is expecting her," Lin says simply.

Mox and her mother awkwardly climb into Lin's bed, the biggest in the house, sticking to its edges. She crawls her way between them. There is just room enough to squeeze in. She hugs Himi to her chest, as both her mother and husband paw desperately at her.

It should take hours to fall asleep. They're dreaming in moments.

Mari screams in delight, as they all scramble to be the first to pick her up.

The gods smile, but avert their eyes to grant them privacy. Tonight is a dream all their own.

The morning after, with Himi safely returned to her rightful owner, they gather in a quiet garden. Before spring and stones they offer a humble hare. Its blood stains the surface red, but the water is quick to dissolve its traces. They burn the offal alongside a small hunk of resin, sweet and savored. They quietly offer the meat to Chel's family. Pana accepts it without question and promises the gift will be soon to properly.

Three are the children that returned their Mari to them, if only in a way Lord Cassipa will yet grudgingly concede to. Three are those that deserve their gratitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermes is a god of games, dogs, boundaries, shepherding the souls of the dead, summoning souls in necromancy, and dreams of omen.
> 
> Apollo is a god of healing, averting evil, prophecy, and archery. And, yes, laws, city planning, and civil institutions XD
> 
> Cyrene (literally Sovereign Queen) was a huntress of Artemis that literally killed lions with her bare hands. That's what gave Apollo the hots for her XD Cyrene doesn't seem to have missed her old life one bit, considering she went to found and rule a city named in her honor. The myths give her two or three kids by Apollo, implying an affair a bit more passionate than his usual one night stands.


	4. growing pains

"Hey, um... Pana?"

Pana does not jump in surprise at suddenly no longer being alone. After years of putting up with Chel's friends this is just another day in the life of the most 'blessed' family in all Manoa, of course after Chief Tannabok's own. However, her stomach does turn at the hesitant tone, the extremely sheepish look she gets when she turns his way.

"Yes. Miguel?"

Chel and her friends are all at an age where Pana and Teo have given them all the talk, separately and respectfully. Only to find Sija and Koli have both beaten them to the punch. Sure, most gods don't _consort with_ mortals and sully their divinity. Most gods haven't grown up beside a mortal best friend and come over for weekly dinners. Besides, Tulio and Miguel still insist they're just _spirits,_ albeit very powerful ones now. And spirits don't quite play by the same rules.

Miguel nervously runs his hands through his hair. Usually it falls in golden waves or else is neatly bound up. Today it's tangled from the stress. "C-Can I ask your help with... something?"

"Of course," Pana agrees calmly. "So long as it's within mortal capabilities this time." Because people can't casually stroll down for family dinners in the underworld, and unfortunately Miguel's father can't get out much.

Miguel tries for a smile and only grimaces. "W-Well, you cut Teo's hair all the time, don't you?"

Pana's jaw drops. By now Miguel's hair trails down past his feet. Tulio teases him maybe it's time for another growth spurt and even Sipaktli, the rare times they see her, snark it's time for her baby brother to catch up. He's only Chel's height now, with his other age mates near a head taller.

"I do," she manages to finally spit out. "But can't you just..." She waves her fingers up at her face, because spirits can change forms like mortals do emotions. Her home has endured far too many birds and strange animals from across the sea this past decade.

"It's important this time," he murmurs. "A change I've wanted to make... a long time now. This... this isn't me anymore."

"Oh." Instinctively Pana wraps the boy into a hug. "Oh, sweetheart."

Tellingly, she and her family have never had the... _honor_ of personally meeting Miguel's godly mother. She is the distant glimpse of a woman veiled in green, or a disapproving serpent of the same emerald green looming from the trees. Miguel is always quick to pale and flee to her side, for she comes only when her son has outstayed his welcome among the mortals that dare regard him as part of the family.

Tona does not suffer from shyness. They know that all too well. It took them over a year to meet Maya, and she's the sweetest woman Pana ever met, goddess or not. Even she's not above coming to the occasional late night dinner, for star deities have the hardest time waking up during daylight hours.

"Of course I'll help you cut your hair," she promises, heart melting at his relieved smile back. "As short as _you_ want."

Short apparently means all the way to just past his ears. The many extra feet fall simply to Pana's feet, heavier than before. She nudges it in disbelief, because now the hair like spun gold _is_ now spun gold.

"Huh," Miguel muses. "That's new."

Then he lifts her in a hug, spewing thank yous. Pana pats him lightly on the back and waits for the world to stop spinning.

Once he sheepishly puts her down Miguel throws himself onto his partners. They and Xaya are absorbed upstairs in a heated game of dice before he leaps in.

"W-What happened to your hair?"

Chel nudges Tulio in the ribs. "Oh, like we don't have enough hair for all of us."

Tulio squawks when she tugs at his pony tail. Today it trails down his back in a smooth, silky cascade, because Tulio treats and brushes it excessively. When he doesn't it fluffs up into the frizz cloud of his youth, now in epic proportions. Maya, whose hair runs down her back in curly ringlets, only sighs at teenage vanity. And silently suffers the scruff he's proudly worn the last month, that he neither shaves nor grows out.

"I like it," Xaya says simply, before rolling his dice. "But your mom's gonna _freak."_

Miguel waves it off with a forced smile. "Oh, she'll get over it. Eventually."

Tulio rolls his eyes. "Pft. In like another thousand years."

"Great," Xaya mutters. "Let's brace for the catastrophe that ends the Fifth World, all because one mom couldn't handle a haircut."

"She... She's mellowed these days," Miguel adds weakly. "A teensy bit."

The boys spend the rest of the day holed up inside, fixated on their games. Chel and Xaya tease and talk for them, as they grow increasingly quiet toward sundown. Sija rolls her eyes and pours small cups of pulque for them all. They down the drinks gratefully.

Around sundown Pana and Teo invite them both to stay the night. The boys have only been perfect guests. Whatever they and Chel may or may not get up to nothing happens under their roof.

Tulio plasters on a thankful smile. "Thanks but no thanks. He's already staying at my place. That way there's less..."

"Mortal collateral damage?" Xaya mutters.

"Yeah."

For all the looks Pana exchanges with her husband and parents they eventually let their boys go. Chel and Xaya retreat up to their room. The adults downstairs pretend not to hear the knives and spear tips sharpened, just in case. They also tactfully ignore the watchful calls of a nighthawk from their roof, the vigilant pounding of a woodpecker up far too late, from somewhere in the trees.

The night passes uneventfully. The following days crawl by, slow and quiet, as Miguel and Tulio spend their daylight hours with them. When they don't have other matters to attend to, of course. Tulio is called down into Xibalba more these nights, as those that send their loved ones on to the next world realize there is a shepherd willing to guide their spirits safely to paradise.

Chel is not the only one unusually sensitive to the world these days. All her family see the demons where blinder eyes can see only the symptoms wracked by illness and avarice. They've simply seen too many wonderful things to ignore the terrible. They all relax the night the agonized shrieks of demons start up again. The sounds mean Miguel has finally made up with Dia, if not their mother.

Three days after Pana rests easy, Miguel shows up with his smooth face covered in haphazard peach fuzz. He cheerfully waves off three separate invitations from Koli, Teo, _and_ Xaya to teach him how to shave.

That dusk all Manoa freezes in dread at the scandalized shriek that emanates from every reed down by Lake Parime. Chel and her family groan as the melodrama repeats with a vengeance.

The following week is marked by the priests freaking out over all the ominous bird omens of quiet nighthawks and brightly-colored woodpeckers squawking indignantly at snakes all over the city. Pana painfully understands most of their arguments, which consist mostly of Tona accusing Tulio's parents of their hairy son corrupting her son, and Maya and Pi likewise retorting she should let her damn baby grow up already.

Sija retaliates by tripling their daily offerings on the family altar to the boys, and doubling the share for Tulio's parents. And completely removing the fried snakes and frogs Tona is so fond of. That gets the goddess to listen. A steady trickle of people are starting to acknowledge the snakes that slither away rather than bite too-curious children, that curl beneath the homes of pregnant mothers and ward off disease. But Chel's family has always been the most generous with their patronage. It is because of Sija and Pana the People of the Vine, if not all Manoa, know now the name of the Lady of the Reeds.

Finally Tona and her son face each other. Most notice only an end to the bird-snake war, the sigh through the reeds and the odd glint of the light. Pana tactfully pretends not ot hear every sob, begging forgiveness and giving it, to never let anything so stupid ever come between them ever again.

She rather doubts the peace will last long, but it's the sentiment that counts.

Things die down to normal, for the most part. Pana winds up stuffing the gift of gold deep down in a chest. For all the fortune and prosperity they have endured beneath Chel's friends and their families they are still People of the Vine. To carry such treasure, intended for the Golden People alone, is a sure death sentence.

Pana is not one to tempt fate. Like the People of the Vine, Miguel and Tulio have only the bare right to live in Manoa, not dare presume themselves full, equal members of the city. They are not great gods with a dedicated temple or established priesthood. They have only their unofficial garden and the people they deign let inside, Chel and her family to spread their legends wide. Dia commands only the regard of hunters too fearful to attract the Jaguar God's attention. Their parents, however great they might be in distant lands, have only the sparse household shrine here and there.

So Pana buries that gold deep, and their secrets with it.

* * *

The People of the Vine are still a people, if only just. They speak in Manoan, pray only to the deities of Manoa. Even Paquini, their great goddess, has been adopted into the pantheon on Lord Bibi's mercy. And divinity's weakness for wine and raging parties. They wear green stone in their ears, for they are worthy enough to serve Manoa and the gods themselves, if only in lower roles. They are the gods' first choice for sacrifice, unless the omens specifically call for Golden blood instead.

When the priests and acolytes start murmuring of strange happenings in the city outskirts, Tzekel-Kan is properly affronted. The People of the Vine are a conquered people, the high priests of their pantheon a century dead and their gods with them. Only Paquini was deigned to live, so that her followers did not to the holy secret of distillation with them. How dare they pray to powers have no place by Lake Parime's sacred shores!

Kina, as the Jaguar God's high priestess, rightfully ignores the rumors the first few years. They are beneath her notice, the figments of bored little peasant children, unreal and ephemeral as the rest of their stories. Only when the word grows, and refuses to wither, must she take notice. She orders Tzekel-Kan, her devoted apprentice, deep into the archives of those peoples conquered. The names of their divinities are recorded among Balam Qoxtok's glories, but never spoken aloud, for fear of letting ghosts back into the world. No past divinity of the Vine People quite fits those that heal the sick or allegedly guide the dead to paradise, hunt demons or watch over the young.

The odd omens of shrieking birds and squabbling snakes have Tzekel-Kan ordered from the archives and into the streets.

Even he, who now so rarely treads among Manoa's lowest, notices how they reach above their stations. Their streets are cleaner, their lopsided houses painstakingly repaired, less like the poor section and more like the lowest rungs of the true Golden People. Their children are fatter, garbed in brighter colors. They are fearless, not yet knowing their place in the world. The little brats near trip him several times as they dash by far too close.

Eventually their luck runs out. One crashes right into the priest. Tzekel-Kan snarls furiously down at the filthy little urchin, sprawled on his back but grinning dumbly up at him.

"Impertinent little brat!" he growls. "Do you have any idea wh-"

Tzekel-Kan near swallows his tongue when what he mistook as a clump of weeds near the boy uncoils itself. The serpent is rich green and slithers protectively onto the boy's shoulders. It flares its head out forebodingly, like no serpent he has ever beheld before, the shape almost like a hood.

"Hello," the boy says brightly, as the serpent arches back on his shoulder. "Guess I didn't see you there!"

"I... Yes," Tzekel-Kan bites out slowly. The serpent's eyes watch his every move. He forces on a smile. "Well, certainly remember your place next time."

The boy beams. "Don't you worry. I most certainly will."

Faced with an obvious omen like this, Tzekel-Kan politely asks the boy if he might know where to find the garden where all the new... 'helpers' might be. The boy grins, pointing at another ragamuffin his age lounging in the shadows. "My partner can take you! I've..." Bright eyes slide to the serpent, already winding off his shoulders and vanishing into a narrow alley. "I've kinda got somewhere to be. Family matters, you know?"

"Of course," Tzekel-Kan grits. He snarls more than smiles at the boy left. "Can you take me there or not?"

"Oh, you bet I can!" the boy says brightly, snatching his hand. Tzekel-Kan shudders at the grimy fingers and at the even grimier streets he's led down.

Up and down they head, left and right, until the priest's head goes dizzy with the twists and turns. He scowls as Lady Paquini's smirking stele passes them for the third time. "We've been here before, you little brat!"

"No we haven't!" the boy chirps, pulling him onward in an implacable grip. "We came from the other way before!"

When Tzekel-Kan can at last force himself free, the brat smirks and darts away before he can backhand him for the impudence. Too late does Tzekel-Kan realize the little bastard _mugged_ him. That had been his best knife!

He tries and fails to find the brat. Then he gives up and snaps at the closest peasant for directions. The idiots are utterly unhelpful, as their words only bring him down the same roads, past the same stalls. Tzekel-Kan winds up chased by barking street dogs and mobbed by an angry flock of birds when he passes under their nests. It is near sundown when he stumbles back to familiar territory, nursing a lump on his head from a rather angry woodpecker when he'd bumped into its tree.

Only then does he realize his earrings are missing too. Ugh.

Tzekel-Kan drags himself back to the temple and his unimpressed priestess. He bites back his temper to force out properly contribute apology. Inside he bitterly prays Kina's time on this earth is almost done. She's the last soul between him and the power of high priesthood.

Before Kina can order him back out among the peasants, the first kingfish in Lake Parime washes up dead. Others are swift to follow, polluting the sacred waters until their corpses can be dragged off and safely disposed of. Lord Xarayes must be furious, to taint Lady Eupana's waters and kill their children so.

Tzekel-Kan knows just the sacrifice, one that will hopefully be the first of many.

* * *

"A human sacrifice?" Tulio drawls. "Really?"

"Yep," Chel deadpans. She knows it better than these idiots ever could. The last ten years have been gentle.

"Ugh." Miguel wrinkles his nose. "It-It's just so... _barbaric._ "

"Perhaps where you're from," Dad allows grimly. "Here is simply the way of the world."

"And Lord Xarayes is calling for Manoan girls," Xaya adds bitterly. "Wonder where he got the idea- OW! Grandma, what the hell?"

Grandma twists her hand harder, until Xaya bends with her. "That's for your language, fool boy," she scolds. "Perhaps you'll learn how to finally respect divinity when I box it off by accident." She withdraws her hand, face gentling. "Lord Xarayes is God of Xibalba, deep and cryptic as his waters. He offers no omens beyond showing his fury so catastrophically. He has angered this way before. We have no ways of knowing what drives him to such ends."

Chel clenches her fists. No way is this ending up like Mari and her nine youngest sisters. Not ever again. "Well, then I guess it's high time someone had a little heart to heart with him."

"Exactly," Miguel grins.

Tulio, faster on the uptake, blurts out, "No!"

"No?"

 _"No,_ Miguel!"

"Oh. _Oh."_ Miguel gasps at Chel, green eyes wide with horror. "You can't!"

"You most certainly cannot," Grandpa thunders, as the family picks up on her intentions too.

Chel crosses her arms. "I most certainly can."

"Send one of your idiots down instead!" Xaya breaks in. "They already troll the Lords of Xibalba anyway!"

"The priests are calling for _women,_ stupid."

"Then send down Dia!" Dad insists.

"Honey, no," Mom groans. "Do you _want_ the world to end?"

"As if that's a problem!" Miguel promptly poofs into an unsettling replica of his twin, Tulio into a woman like a younger and curvier version of his mom.

"Are we partners or not?" Chel hisses, tone so fierce they immediately startle back to their preferred faces.

"O-Of course you are, Chel, it's just that-"

"If you have faith in me, any at all, then I expect you to believe me when I say I've got this." Chel stares them down until their faces crumble, but neither look away. She holds out her hands expectantly. "Partners?"

"Partners," they murmur, clasping her hands as one.

Chel stares defiantly up at her family. Xaya's broad shoulders slump in defeat before he offers her a weak thumbs up. Dad clutches Mom while they offer silent nods of resignation. Grandpa bows his head. Grandma assures her she has utter faith in her abilities, and that she if she must go down to Xibalba herself to fish Chel out there will be utter hell to pay, for both her and Lord Xarayes.

The morning after Chel faces the searching acolytes without fear. Though she is still somewhere between the two they immediately single her out as more woman than girl. Her mother, long married, is still beautiful enough to be hauled off for consideration. One acolyte even pauses on Grandma, who has aged _shockingly_ well the past decade. If she's aged at all. One hateful scowl has the man scrambling on.

Sija helps her daughter and granddaughter dress. Lin, whose daughter plays among the clouds today, lends a hand. For some reason even the acolytes knew better than to single out, probably to do with the growling dog and ominous hawk that had stood guard of her doorstep until the acolytes had scurried by. Chel and her mom are garbed in white dresses, clean as the clouds and just as soft. Grandma curses idiot spirits when when she realizes their earrings are holy jade, not a lesser stone meant to imitate it. Chel fights back a smirk.

Chel is allowed to stand side by side with her mom as Xarayes' acolytes sweep up and down the lines. So great is the line of possible tribute that they are joined by the followers of Eupana and Balam Qoxtok, for Xarayes is wed to Grandmother Turtle and sire of the Jaguar God. She squeezes Mom's hand soothingly. Her mom clings on in a death grip.

She smirks as Tzekel-Kan swaggers down their line. Immediately his eyes fixate on her, who defiantly returns his gaze rather than cast down her eyes, who tilts her chin upward when he looms into her face.

"Who," he sneers, "are you supposed to be?"

Chel does not shout. Still her voice carries far and loud, for all to hear. "I am the one these people have faith in to fix this little misunderstanding, so that their mothers and sisters and daughters need not die today." She swings out her hand. He recoils in revulsion, but Chel's not out to have him shake it. She grins at his bewilderment. "Call me Chel."

Tzekel-Kan gawks down at his earrings, snatched not so long ago, and then at a sacrificial gown that leaves little to the imagination. "Where... Where you even keeping those?"

Chel winks and tosses them back to him. His mounting outrage is doused by the growing murmur in the crowd. There is unspeakable power in human sacrifice. There is even more so in a willing sacrifice, who goes to the gods un-drugged and unbound, because they don't know quite she is yet.

She gently pries herself free of her mother's death grip as hundreds of hands bear her away. A self-sacrifice must be made quickly, lest the soul have time to know fear and reconsider their selflessness. There is no time for goodbyes or further consecrations before she is hauled up onto the altar of Lord Xarayes. Not that Chel needs them anyway.

Below the waters roar in their fall to the underworld. The abyss swallows up the sunlight.

Kina, now too old to raise the cudgel with the proper heft, leaves the honor to Tzekel-Kan.

Chel bolts ahead of him. Not to escape, but to canon ball straight down into Xibalba. Her last sounds of the world above are her grandma's voice carrying about the crowd's gasps, demanding her back by breakfast time _or else._

Down, down, down Chel drifts, into waters vast and black, into a deepness that does not belong to Xibalba alone.

Moments or centuries later comes the kingfish, vast enough to swallow ships, his scales a black that somehow shines in the endless void. He circles her ruthlessly. He is not alone. The second fish is perhaps only half his size, green-scaled with a down-turned nose almost like a tapir's snout, but perfectly calm. The blackness around him shines, grants the icy waters the rich warmth of fresh-tilled earth.

Chel reaches out to them both. The void ripples, gaining shape and form.

On opposite ends of a table that spans both several feet and an entire ocean are seated two gods. One sits on an obsidian throne, garbed just as black, and coldness in his fathomless gaze. The other reclines in a throne of gold. What little visible of his skin is green as the reeds. Most is concealed beneath strips of white fabric that wrap his entire form. He smiles at her, warm and benevolent, and Chel at last knows for certain where Miguel got his expressions from. Certainly not his mom's side of the family.

"Good morning, Lord Xarayes," she greets politely, before beaming back at the other god. "And to you too, Miguel's dad. It's nice to finally meet you."

"Same here, young lady. I wish it could have been years sooner, but, well..." He smiles wanly as he raps his golden throne. "Duty calls."

"I am Xarayes, Lord of the Wide Waters," rumbles the God of Xibalba in a voice dark and deep.

Miguel's dad purses his lips. "Call me... Ris, Lord of Silence."

"Your family is anything but," rumbles Lord Xarayes. "Most especially your son."

Ris grins fondly. "Oh, I know. You marry into it." He sadly takes in the other god, cold and far from amused. "That's the problem today, isn't it?"

"For _years."_

Chel takes in the two gods before her, so thoroughly of the underworld and yet so dissonant. One is the embodiment of oblivion, that swallows all light and life in his depths. The other is _rebirth,_ the renewal of the waters and green new life springing up from decay. There is middle ground between them, between _all_ of them.

"And I'm Chel, lady of a domain to be decided," she interjects, taking her seat between them. Lord Xarayes rolls his eyes but does not protest. "Now, we're all grown-ups here. Mostly. Let's see if we can talk this through."

"There is no debate to be had," Lord Xarayes thunders. "Bibi, that meddling old fool, dropped two alien ideas into a land not meant for them. They and those they are drag inside are all interlopers. They do not belong here. They never did."

"The people beg to differ," Chel says flatly. "More and more of them every day."

Ris, with Miguel's unfailing determination but also unfailing politeness, continues her gentle push for peace. Sure, Chel's still learning the proper tact, but even Lord Xarayes is just too confounded by Ris' impeccable... niceness to outright refuse him. This is technically Xarayes' domain, if it can be called either of theirs, and he is certainly no rude host to throw a guest so unceremoniously out into the streets.

She's just the distraction down here, holding the God of Xibalba captive so his kids can't do anything stupid.

Above, oblivious to both gods, the will of the people continues to shift. Chel bites back her smirk as their disbelief morphs into awe and, finally, true faith, golden and radiant as her idiots do what they do best - blunder their way into people's hearts and make homes there.

All because of two empty chairs long awaiting butts to fill them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes, our idiots basically resurrected half their family by accident XD You drop enough names and leave enough places at the altar open, mouths will come by to eat there eventually. And thanks to certain things muddled in translation or through sheer disowning of any and all things Jupiter...
> 
> Tona here is a mash of Latona and Buto - the Greco-Roman incarnation of Wadjet. Unlike Leto/Latona - who has extremely vague domains of power - Wadjet is a lot more clear-cut. A lot of Greeks and Romans interpreted her as Leto/Latona for various reasons, such as a temple in Egypt said to resemble Leto's floating isle of Delos. Tona is thus either a cobra or a woman veiled in green. Her domain includes protection of children and expecting mothers, protection from snakebites, and enforcement of lawful authorities :p She likes eating frogs because of that one whole incident with Leto and snakes because cobras do that sort of thing.
> 
> Maya is a reclusive star goddess, but sweet as hell about it. She's a nighthawk because they're quiet, nocturnal birds that hide away in the day and don't have the same grand reputation owls do. Of course she's mostly just Maia XD 
> 
> Pi is Picus, deified king of Latium. He has a thing for woodpeckers, omens through birds, and colonization. Roman myth makes him Faunus' father. Faunus' Greek counterpart is Pan - the older aspect of Hermes :p
> 
> Ris is Osiris - the Greek version of Horus' father. And therefore Apollo's dad through interpretation. Not to mention Apollo has at least partial roots in Egypt himself. He's mostly a god of rebirth and regeneration despite being dead himself. Among his sacred animals include the elephantfish. When Set killed his brother and hacked his body parts to prevent his resurrection, his wife was able to gather almost all parts back together. Except his penis, eaten by an elephantfish. And THAT's why they were taboo to Egyptians :D (And why Horus got conceived through a magic golden penis made special to replace it, but that's a story Miguel's taking to the grave.)


	5. crowning glories

_"I am the one these people have faith in to fix this little misunderstanding, so that their mothers and sisters and daughters need not die today."_

For all Tannabok is chief of the mortal world, sacrifice falls into the realm of the priesthood. He is powerless to prevent bold Chel from offering herself in the place of her loved ones, just as he can only watch helplessly as she is borne to the altar. And then gape with all the others when she fearlessly plummets over before Tzekel-Kan can swing his cudgel. She scowls in determination the whole way down.

"Be back by breakfast time, young lady, _or else!"_

Tzekel-Kan wrenches his gaze from the altar. "Who said that?" he roars.

The crowd murmurs, glancing and shrugging uneasily with each other. The old woman's seems to have resonated from everywhere, at least from where Tannabok is standing.

Tzekel-Kan's furious gaze searches the crowd. No accused is dragged forward. As the uneasy murmurs shift toward something else, he zealously rounds on his high priestess. "My lady, surely the whole sacrifice was ruined! That girl leaped down into Xibalba still alive and now her family makes a mockery of us! How can Lord Xarayes be appeased under these circumstances?"

Kina straightens. For all she's a foot shorter her apprentice still quails under her scowl. "I have taught you much, Tzekel, but patience you have yet to master. Lord Xarayes retrieved his tribute all the same. It is still a bloodless death, whether by cudgel or the water in her lungs. We must grant the gods time to speak."

Speak the gods do. Tannabok does not realize how quiet a day can sound until every bird falls silent. Dread ripples through the crowd as their gazes drift to the trees and the silent gardens. Then every bird erupts in a susurrus of wings. They rise in a vivid crowd, from vibrant reds and greens to humble browns. As one they converge in the tallest temple in all Manoa, one that has awaited its lords since time immemorial.

"Impossible," he breathes, reaching for Miya's hand. His wife squeezes back.

Just then the sun breaks through an overcast sky, directly over the temple. It peak shimmers gold, brilliant as one when this world was first raised from the ashes of the old.

Chief Tannabok finds himself at the head of the procession toward the loudest omen the gods have voiced in generations. Lord Kinich is the Sun God, god of the royal line. For him to smile so must be of great importance. He walks side by side with Kina, high priestess and speaker of the gods. Her apprentice Tzekel-Kan must follow at their heels, just an eager step behind.

Their progress is slow but dignified. Kina moves against the weight of years. Tzekel-Kan simmers. If not for the gravity of this moment Tannabok would think her doing it on purpose.

Past Tzekel-Kan drift the wondrous murmurs of his people. Tannabok focuses on the People of the Vine, with green in their ears. There is no confusion in their eyes. They smile knowingly, in excitement. Again and again they utter two names, alien and ominous.

At the temple steps they pause. Overhead circle infinite birds. Tzekel-Kan near explodes as his priestess considers the ascent. "W-Would you like me to go in your stead, my lady?"

Kina glares at him and lurches forward. Tannabok subtly leans forward to offer the old woman an arm. She takes it as she staggers precariously on the first step.

Then Kina straightens, throwing back her shoulders to stand the tallest she has in years. She coolly thanks Tannabok for respecting his elders before breezing up, her steps smooth and uncertain. It is the chief that must struggle to keep pace. Tzekel-Kan is left gaping at the bottom. Some birds flutter down to unceremoniously use him as a perch, and then many more. Tannabok waves cheerily down at the young man, too terrified to twitch.

Tannabok does not know what to expect at the top. Manoa has awaited its Dual Gods a thousand years.

Tears spring to his eyes when he discovers two empty thrones filled at last.

They are a tad more youthful than he has ever expected them, proud but yet uncrowned. They have more scruff than true beards, lanky limbs and shoulders yet to fully broaden. Still their faces are the same that smile benevolently down from the golden stele above them. Behind their thrones protectively looms a serpent green as the reeds, who flares out a hood at their approach. She is not the Feathered Serpent, but a goddess all the same.

"M-My lords," Tannabok manages a scarce moment before Kina, as they both bow their submission.

"Chief Tannabok," the darker god intones calmly, in a voice smooth and fully broken. "Kina. So glad to finally meet you in person."

"My lord," Kina rasps thickly. Tearfully. "I-I thought I'd never be blessed to see your coming for myself."

The god arches an intrigued brow. "Your dreams have been quiet, then? No disruptions from your patron?"

"H-He is a most... elusive god, your lord. Balam Qoxtok stalks where he will."

Incongruously the god smirks, fondly jabbing his partner with an elbow. "See? The Jaguar God had no idea on how much he was even missing. I'm just _that_ good."

"Yes, yes, and now I won't hear the end of it for the next millennium." The golden god smiles warmly at the bewildered priestess. "Hello, Kina. I trust your knees are feeling better."

"Miraculously so, my lord."

He beams, before winking gleefully Tannabok's way. "And congratulations to you and Chieftess Miya, Chief Tanni. You both have many joyful days and sleepless nights ahead of you."

It is a secret they have not yet shared. Not to any mortal ears at least. He swallows thickly. "T-Thank you, my lord. Please, what names may we call you?"

His only answer are enigmatic smiles. "Oh, we're well known around these parts."

Neither chief nor priestess can push further before the first worshipers arrive; two couples and a young man. Tannabok stares at their tribute; tamales, pulque, a pair of dice... and a rock and a massive pile of spun gold? He and Kina openly gape when the gods descend from their thrones to embrace each and every last one of the strangers. They murmur privately to each other before the family takes their leave.

Tannabok holds his tongue. Even Kina does, for all she she is ready to explode with questions. One does not question the gods.

More worshipers swiftly follow. All are People of the Vine, offering humble gifts of harvest, incense, and what trinkets they have. Their gratitude is endless; for sicknesses healed, lost children returned, thieves warded off, and even souls guided safe to Lady Eupana's paradise. The gods greet each one warmly and by name, but never rise from their thrones to embrace them. Every soul leaves unaware the green stones in their ears have shifted to gleaming gold. Tannabok can't help his wondrous smile. Kina stares after them, eyes deep in thought.

The flow of adoration never ceases. Soon wealthy Manoans are quick to come. Their gold and jade is received no less graciously than the humble, heartfelt tribute of those before them. Tannabok and Kina linger, spellbound and awaiting the perfect time to offer their own tribute.

As the sun rises toward noon the snake uncoils from her vigil. In a blink she is a great goddess, veiled in green.

"Miguel," she breathes like the wind through the reeds. "My son, my Lord of the Day."

On his head she rests a crown of emerald feathers. She sweeps him into her arms before vanishing like a mirage.

The next visitor is no mortal. She strides in with a bow at her back and a pack of wild animals as her retinue. Kina stares at the spotted jaguar that lets her rest a hand upon its a hand.

Lord Miguel grins at the sight of her. "Queen of Beasts."

"Shooter from Afar."

"Lady of Clamors."

"Averter of Evil."

"Revered Maiden!"

An eye twitches on that young, fierce face. "Annoying little brother."

"Sipaktli!"

The goddess groans, before thrusting a golden bow into her brother's lap and a golden sword upon the other. "Congratulations on the throne. Let it go to your head and I'll take it for myself." Her piece said, she stalks for the exit. First her baleful eye falls upon Tannabok. "Chief, assure your Miya to fear not. She will have the little girl she seeks, fearless and bold. It will only take you five more sons after this one."

Tannabok thanks her weakly, because his royal mother had taught him proper etiquette. He manages to give the gods a wan smile in their lull of tribute. "My lords, perhaps I can prepare you a glorious feast for tonight to commemorate your... official taking of duties."

"And I a reverent ceremony for the dawn," Kina adds without fail. "Any beast you desire."

Tannabok does not stare. He was not the only one to catch the obvious sign of gifting every Vine Person gold in their ears to fully mark them as Manoan.

The dark god, not yet crowned, smiles wryly. "Maybe let's wait until all the formalities are done, yeah?"

The mortals are quick to bow and apologize for their presumptuousness. Their Dual Gods are in the good mood to wave them off and politely imply they take some time off for now. Chief Tannabok eagerly takes a chance to retreat from the madness. The next woman up the stairs is amply built, arms laden with ripe grapes and jugs of wine. She winks at him as they pass.

He hastens down the steps. Tzekel-Kan is still frozen by the base. Only then do all the birds overhead break off. So do all the ones perched all over the priest. Tannabok is blessed to the sight of an annoying know-it-all left covered in feathers and bird shit, utterly flabbergasted at the turns today has taken. Tannabok waves cheerfully to him as he returns to Miya, back to their place where things mostly make sense.

As the sun sets Tannabok's heart tugs him and Miya once more up the temple steps. Now the gods sit in repose amongst a temple bursting with tribute, casually munching at offerings and sipping at the wine beside their thrones. By now the line has almost wound down. Tannabok and Miya see the last leave just as the first stars start shining overhead.

Now the thrones shine with a golden radiance all their own. Though Lord Miguel has faded somewhat with sunset his partner has somewhere grown more magnificent in the dark, as the shadows themselves bend in his thrall.

And then they are no longer alone. A massive woodpecker swoops past Tannabok before alighting as a man with a beaky nose and a feathered cloak. Only that cloak twitches, revealing themselves as wings. The god smiles and holds up a gallant hand. Down from the nocturnal skies steps a goddess robed in starlight. She graces her husband a serene smile before their loving gazes fall upon their son, who stands up straighter before their pride. Tannabok squeezes Miya's hand, and hopes they will inspire their own children like that one day.

"Tulio," murmurs the goddess. "My baby. My Lord of the Evening. I have loved you as a humble spirit and now once more as a great god."

The god grins, clapping a hand on his boy's shoulder. "Not to worry, son. You'll be a better protector of these people than I ever was to mine." He winked at Tannabok. "Service is what matters most, right, chief?"

"Of course," he agrees faintly, as the goddess drapes her son in a cloak of night and the god crowns Lord Tulio in a crown of black feathers. Then the gods are a woodpecker and nighthawk, wheeling off together into the starry sky. Lord Tulio sighs, easing back into this throne with new comfort.

Tannabok is preparing his offer once more when Miya clenches his hand. He follows her small jerk of the chin to a little detail his eyes have somehow missed. As if the third empty throne between the Dual Gods is simply something he has ignored all these long years, a detail pointed out he should have noticed long ago. Once more they bow low and take their leave.

Tannabok dreams only good things; a brood of children to cherish and be exhausted by, a city safe forever and always, the furious cry of a scorned Jaguar God, unceremoniously shushed by greater deities with more important things to worry about. He and his wife wake well before sunrise, well-rested and without an ounce of dread for the day to come.

As dawn breaches the horizon, the goddess claims her waiting throne. Tannabok already knows her name and face long before the crown of cloud-white feathers is laid upon her hair.

"Chel," declares her holy grandmother. "My Lady of the Heart."

One by one, her family offers more epithets, each as cherished as the last; Lady of Faith, Lady of Hope, Bold Dreamer, Mover of Mountains. Beater of Bullies. All turn to side-eye her brother. He shrugs gleefully back. "What? That's how we got here to begin with!"

Lord Tulio offers a hopeful hand. "What about just 'partner?'"

Lady Chel taps her chin. "Wasn't it 'partner-in-training?'"

"Please," scoffs her brother once more. "You're all _way_ past that."

The Golden Gods concede this by clasping each other's hands. Lord Miguel smiles knowingly as he takes Lady Chel's other hand, but says nothing further. Neither do Lady Chel's family, so Tannabok and Miya certainly don't. They know what's coming a mile away. But there's still years and years for that to come true.

First comes today, and that means a glorious feast tonight. One attended by actual divinity!

Things start fine. Then Lady Paquini brings out the wine and things get _wild._ Tannabok, who can out drink most any man alive, wakes up a headache of godly proportions. Miya rubs his back sympathetically until Lord Miguel courteously heals the whole city of their hangovers.

Already Tannabok dreads the even _bigger_ celebration he knows he will one day live to see. Another part of him can't wait.

It's not every century the Lords of the Fifth World decide to marry. And it's definitely happening within his lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leto/Latona as Buto/Wadjet was the protector of royal power. Maia was a star deity really good at hiding and Picus both a King of Latium and eventually a deity of birds of omen. Maia wears the pants in the relationship. Or she would if pants weren't a thing for barbarians :p
> 
> Yes, what's coming is exactly what you think is coming. It only took me near 300,000 words and an alternate universe to finally show you one version of it XD


	6. reap the rewards

Years and years after the Golden Gods assumed their thrones, Manoa has settled into a new normal. Their pantheon has comfortably expanded. A few more cosmic niches are held by names still new, though already murmured in enough prayers to become near and dear to many mortal hearts. The Golden Gods did not enter this world alone. As they finally made their homes in the city they had raised so long ago, they'd brought their families with them.

On the surface, Lord Tulio's family is the most straightforward. Lady Maya is a star goddess who shines brightly during her son's time. She is the oldest sister in her constellation of seven, the one who guides her younger sisters across their nightly course. His father, Lord Pi, is god of augury. Birds are the heavenly messengers. Their behaviors and their flight patterns can reveal secrets. Through dreams, Lord Pi reveals how to read their signs, and so divine the past, present, and future from them.

Lady Maya and Lord Pi are each married to different goddesses. Lady Calli is also a star goddess and Lady Cana a goddess of song. Lord Tulio fondly calls one his stepmother and the other his second mom. Such is the way of divinity.

Lord Miguel's mother, Lady Tona, is a protection goddess. Mothers across the city give their babies necklaces and bracelets with her serpent symbol, to keep them safe through childhood as Lady Tona once had her danger-prone son. Lady Dia, Miguel's twin, inherited her protective tendencies. She is a goddess of the hunt, who walks with hunters through the deepest jungle, and keeps the jealous Jaguar God from eating them. Their father is Lord Ris, the Green God, who dies every harvest to rise again in the planting season.

Most remarkable of all, Lady Chel's family was once mortal as she was - or so the story goes. Even those that have long known her family now wonder otherwise. Sija always had an iron will. Koli was always a little too calm about matters that shook other men. No wonder they are Grandmother and Grandfather, sources of comfort and temperance to those who struggled through their lives for so long, as they once had. Lady Pana and Lord Teo guide those through middle age the same way, as their three sisters do young women. Those three maiden aunts once sacrificed to the Jaguar God on the Dark Days never truly died. In turn their nephew Lord Xaya, Chel's young brother, helps young men and boys through troubling times. He's had his fair share of chaos over the years. He grew up beside Tulio and Miguel.

In time, the world beyond Manoa changes. The Jaguar God hungrily perks up at the trouble prowling beyond their borders. Nothing comes of it, beyond the endless flood of peoples from lands beyond their own seeking refuge. The Golden Gods who hold their borders firm turn no refugees away. To those who hunt the helpless, Lady Dia hunts them in turn. Her beasts and plagues tear through conquistadors as her huntresses do demons.

These peoples do not always arrive alone. The first spirit to stumble in is an old horse spirit, carrying four trembling children upon his back. Worship of Lord Altivo is quick to rise, for he dares the jungle again and again to bear those that cannot make the journey themselves.

As the years go by, and the Lords of the World leave adolescence far behind, their families start discreetly entering the betting pools that had sprung up in the worlds mortal and divine. When blessings start to be given over family dinners, the bets intensify. A miracle happens when Lady Tona not only approves of Chel, but grudgingly concedes Tulio grew up a lot from his earlier days. Manoa breathes easier after that.

Not even the oracle gods are certain how the proposal (or proposals) will play out. Grandiose plans are reworked and frantically thrown out when their plotter gets cold feet.

There are no clouds or mountains rearranged to spell out one simple question with a life-changing answer. No new species suddenly explode into existence. No other fundamental shifts rock the pantheon. There is a question three idiots simultaneously blurt out in bed one day, and hysterical giggles they worried months over nothing. Life goes on as it always does. Their answers are obvious - they've been partners from the very beginning, and will be so until the end of eternity.

The deities so certain of something grand immediately start taking new bets for the wedding. Xaya and Dia, who know their idiot siblings better than nearly anyone, gleefully split their winnings on the anti-climatic proposal. The _real_ drama will come all from those extended families, mortal and divine, squished in under one sky for the day in question.

When the day in question dawns, Manoa falls into total eclipse, as moon and sun and stars happily share the same sky. Under the muted light the old gods of Manoa happily gather. The Wine Goddess dances through heavenly deities and the Lords of Xibalba, conversation flowing freely as her libations. The Moon Goddess and the Sun God sit side by side, lost in their own blissful world. Before the ceremony even starts, the Volcano Goddess and her husband the Rain God are already ready to find their own quiet corner of creation. Even the Jaguar God is there, silently fuming beside his grandmother. Lady Death is enjoying her day off and won't let a spoiled grandson spoil it all.

The true risks today are all their guests from across the sea. Lord Tulio and Lord Miguel come from such big, big families. Fortunately, most of their guests honor the sacred laws of hospitality, and come only bearing gifts and centuries' worth of gossip.

The Manoan gods soak up a large, tangled tree of cousins and far stranger relations. The grooms have a lot of visitors that embrace them both as siblings. Sometimes those some deities call them amicable exes. What strange standards of adoption their homeland had. Even more bewildering are the sheer number of spirits and minor gods that embrace their gods as fathers. Chel warmly embraces all those about to become her stepchildren. So that's why Pana and Teo aren't holding their breath for grandchildren any time soon.

Some problems need more direct planning. Lady Tona simmers at sharing a row with two other goddesses. Nephthys calls herself like a mother to both Tulio and Miguel. Her sister Isis smiles thinly she is _like_ a mother to Miguel. Lord Ris sits between the two, happily prattles on about how beautiful today is, and so prevents the two goddesses from possibly unraveling creation. A shifty-eyed goddess named Eris keeps chucking golden apples at people's heads. Altivo deftly snatches each one and gorges himself. Dia's huntresses play keep-away with Liber's cup-bearers, lest he throw the whole city into drunken debauchery this early in the day.

All conversation dies down as the bride makes her appearance. Chel is magnificent in white and gold, even more so on the arm of Lady Pana. Her mother's beaming radiance amplifies her own. Her crimson wedding cloak and her raven-black hair stream out behind her. Pana leads Chel down the sacred street, for all the city to see. The Lady of Faith gracefully sinks to her kneels before the matchmaker. Her mother squeezes her hand, mouths something secret, and steps aside.

The Golden Gods rule the Fifth World. Ostensibly the god marrying them today should be Lady Eupana, Goddess of Lake Parime, the venerable matriarch of the pantheon. Instead the honor falls to Lord Bibi, the Trickster, proud and beaming.

Despite the eclipse, the gloom glows bright as day when Miguel arrives on the arm of his sister Dia, who Isis and Tona both agree an acceptable compromise. From the audience, Miguel's son Hymenaeus sings a marriage hymn that all present partake in. The song is beautiful, beyond the binds of language. He too kneels before Lord Bibi, to Chel's right. Dia hesitates, ruffles his hair, and makes as dignified an exit as she can after that. Only then does the blinding radiance recede and the nocturnal gods stop squinting.

For Tulio, the sky dips into deeper darkness that only makes the gods in the audience shine like stars. His mother, Lady Maya, glows bright white from her joy. The glow does not quite hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. Tulio's cloak is deep blue. His mother spreads it out behind him, kisses his brow, and joins Pana and Dia in the audience.

Lord Bibi leans against his staff, crinkled eyes peering out over his audience. "Once upon a time, I found two lost little ragamuffins washed up on a beach, all alone but for each other. I could not see what they had been before fate had brought them to our shores, but I could see glimmers of what they could be." He nods out to some special adults in the audience. "If they had a stable upbringing to lay the foundations." He grins down at Lady Chel. "And one true friend sure of herself, of what was and what should be, to help guide them all there."

Chel's gaze flicks bashfully down. Her partners, blushing, squeeze her hands and each murmur something to her. She grins herself, and looks back up to the Trickster God.

He beams shamelessly back. "I wish I could say I knew in my soul that the Dual Gods had returned to us, reborn for a new age, to find their third partner that would bind them to our city so they wouldn't feel the need to flutter again. I just thought these boys were just too darned cute to let die on a beach, and that a favorite granddaughter of mine deserved friends that could match her zest for life." His craggy face sharpens into a smirk. "And, gods, did they all get along like a house on fire." 

Miguel flushes even redder, beaming awkwardly. Tulio stifles a cough into his other hand. Chel fights a losing battle against keeling over in hysterics.

On the brink of utter chaos, thunder rumbles in the distance. Numerous eyes on the Roman side dart over to one god in particular, gray-bearded and flashing-eyed. Some faces pale in dread. Others eagerly lean forward to watch the carnage. His ex-wife rolls her eyes at Maya, then Tona, and downs another cup of wine. No one's really sure what set him off. Maybe it's envy he's not the top god here, or rage that he's stuck in the furthest row back, or maybe he thinks today should be all about him.

His mother, a mighty earth goddess, rises slowly and implacably behind him. The tension of a brewing storm promptly cuts off. Rhea scoops up her son and carries him off like a mother seeking to avoid inflicting a toddler meltdown upon the rest of them. Almost all the Roman goddesses smirk and gleefully wave them goodbye. Over their mother's shoulder, Juno catches his eye, and raises a toast to her widowhood.

Lady Eupana stares down Lord Bibi. With a cough and a brief apology to his own ex-wife, his voice drops back down into dignified tones. His voice echoes loud and clear as he takes his vows from the Golden Gods. They vow themselves bound by love and friendship, entwined for all eternity unless their own incompatible natures one day lead them to amicable separation. Their unity is a sacred one, their love boundless. A marriage where a spouse might favor one above the other is no true marriage at all. They are partners, unwavering through good times and the bad.

One by one, the gods make their oaths, never hesitating once. On their last rite Lord Bibi knots their cloaks together, red and green and blue. The three gods are one now, forever and always. Upon his proclamation, the cloudless skies start raining golden droplets.

Tulio and Miguel make shows of tripping into each other. Chel fondly rolls her as she's jostled between them. The cloaks tying them together for the rest of the day actually do little to hinder them. They huddle together on one throne as the deluge of presents begins.

Over the endless parade of tribute, bored gods start eying the wine, and each other. Lady Paquini's eye finds Liber's. The gossip gods and the chaos deities start circling like sharks. Oracular gods start twitching and edge for the exits.

Chief Tannabok's eye finds his wife's. As one, they both realize themselves about to face the honeymoon to end all honeymoons, and their city filled to the brim with both wine and passionate deities from across pantheons no strangers to orgies and wild parties.

Oh.

Oh, no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Some of the beats are from my main 'verse, because it indeed turned out I reached that variation of the wedding first XD Jupiter avoided that one out of basic principal. Here he got to be carried off like a cranky toddler :D Thanks for joining me on my latest version of insanity.

**Author's Note:**

> Some years before the Spanish attempted to land on the Americas they were still very much trying to digest their conquests in the Caribbean. So instead of washing up in 1519 our idiots wind up notably earlier this time around ; )
> 
> Early Apollo worship happened along sacred springs believed to have healing properties. Hermes began as the personification of a literal pile of rocks. Herms were used to mark roads and boundary markers.


End file.
